


I Need It Too

by FireflysLove



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflysLove/pseuds/FireflysLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(or: What Bucky Barnes Was Doing During AOU)</p>
<p>Semi-fix it fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need It Too

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes. It's a late night fix it fic the same day I saw AOU. I take a break from Steve/Bucky/Peggy every once in a while.
> 
> The only major change here is that Bruce/Nat was NEVER EVER EVER a thing here. 
> 
> Otherwise, Sam's line about "cold leads" was true, he totally knew where Bucky was, and the leads aren't taking him anywhere.
> 
> Also, it's a G rated fic except for the boys' mouths. Those are dirty. 
> 
> (Oh, and Vision uses they/them pronouns.)

The door slammed shut behind him in a way that could only be intentional, Bucky reflected. Six months after he had come to Steve in the dark of night, somewhere in the high plains of Eastern Europe, the Winter Soldier/James Buchanan Barnes was still getting used to the idea that someone would do something to intentionally acknowledge him.

It wasn’t that Bucky (he had decided the name still fit) was unused to being noticed, it was that Steve cared enough about him to not sneak up on it. Then again, it was probably better for Steve’s personal safety that he _not_ sneak up on Bucky.

The man that had fallen off the train in 1945 was not the man sitting on the couch of Steve’s Brooklyn apartment, but the man sitting on the couch was far from the weapon that had nearly destroyed Steve. His memories had caught up with him somewhere around Rio de Janeiro, and it had not taken much beyond commandeering a computer to find the great Captain America. Convincing the man that Bucky actually did remember was the hard part. (He still privately thought that Steve didn’t believe him half the time when he agreed with Steve that he remembered something. The walls in Steve’s mother’s kitchen had _definitely_ been papered in tiny roses.)

But after the events of the past few months, Bucky was surprised to find Steve coming home at all.

“You’re bleeding on the carpet,” he said, not looking up.

“It’s tiled over here,” Steve replied.

“You’re still bleeding on it,” Bucky said, standing up. He retrieved the first aid kit from its place of honor in the kitchen, and dragged Steve to the table by his ear, pulling him down into a chair.

“What next?” Steve asked, shaking his head. “We’ve tracked the scepter to a small country in Eastern Europe called Sokovia.”

“When do you leave?” Bucky asked, tossing the alcohol and blood soaked gauze into the trash.

“The day after tomorrow,” Steve said.

Bucky finished applying the bandage, and moved onto the cut above Steve’s eye.

“It’s a damn good thing you heal fast,” he said, “that looks like it needs stitches.”

“Just tape it,” Steve sighed.

“I know the drill,” Bucky said. “When was the last time you got stitches anyway?”

Without answer, Steve showed Bucky one of the few scars he has, from where Bucky’s own bullet had pierced him a year prior.

“Ah,” Bucky said. It’s not even the scar that surprises him, it’s the amount of flesh Steve has on display. He hasn’t seen this much since, well… since before the Alps. Possibly since before Azzano. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen that much of Steve’s… muscles.

He gulped heavily, and Steve pulled his shirt down rather too hastily. He’s been careful to keep himself covered around Bucky, and Bucky’s pretty sure it’s because Steve doesn’t think Bucky remembers what they were like before the war. (He does.) It took all Bucky had not to seize Steve by the recently sutured shoulders, slam him against the wall, and have his way with him.

He opted instead to put the first aid kit back in the cupboard.

“You still haven’t told them yet, have you?” Bucky asked.

“It hasn’t been the right time,” Steve said.

“Dammit, Steve,” Bucky said, nearly putting his fist through the slim cabinet door. “I’ve been cooped up in this damn apartment for two months while you go out frolicking with your friends.”

“It’s not _frolicking_ , Bucky,” Steve said. “It’s reconnaissance. That scepter is incredibly dangerous.”

“You tell me that at least once a week,” Bucky said, voice dropping into something dangerous. “It doesn’t stop the fact that you’re out with the fucking _Avengers_ , and you can’t even bother to tell them that you found your long lost best friend who just so happens to be a Hydra assassin.”

“You’re not Hydra,” Steve said vehemently. “And Sam and Natasha know.”

“Sam’s not an Avenger,” Bucky said. “And Tasha’s too good at keeping secrets.”

“You want me to tell them?” Steve asked. “You want to deal with the fall out that’ll come if I bring you in, and tell them I’ve been keeping you hidden for six months?”

“No!” Bucky roared.

“Then what the fuck do you want, Bucky?” Steve asked, standing.

“I just fucking want you,” Bucky said, slamming the cabinet door with too much force and ripping it half off its hinges. He took no notice of it, being too far gone, stomping down the hall, slamming the door to the guest room.

“I want you, too,” he heard Steve whisper.

 

* * *

 

Steve didn’t come home for another few days, sending Sam over with provisions to restock the fridge. Bucky stayed in his room, not wanting to face the questions that Sam would surely have.

“There’s food in the kitchen,” Sam said to Bucky’s closed doors. “They found the scepter. There’s some kind of party tonight at the Tower. I’ll see if I can bring you back something.”

“Don’t bother,” Bucky muttered.

 

* * *

 

He watched TV for the next few hours, flipping through channels. The late night program he had been watching was suddenly interrupted by a news report. He tuned out what they were saying, seeing only the camera focused on the Tower, and metal men pouring out of the building. The work of Howard Stark’s son, from what Steve had told him.

Bucky didn’t sleep that night.

 

* * *

 

He woke on the couch after a thundering on the door. Groggily, he went to it, and opened it, not bothering with the peephole.

“How much do you know?” Sam asked, pushing past Bucky without preamble.

“Not much,” Bucky replied levelly.

Sam filled him in on the situation.

“That’s just fucking insane,” Bucky said after.

“I know,” Sam said. “I’d try to help, but there’s no way I could find any of them in time.”

“And if you could?” Bucky asked.

“Dude, you’d be first on the list.”

So they sit, and they wait.

 

* * *

 

(The murderbots don’t see the muzzle of a rifle sticking out a third story window. The lab on the street is the only one in the entire city that doesn’t get ransacked for parts.)

 

* * *

 

A knock at the door made both Sam and Bucky jump. It was late, past 1 am. Sam had taken up residence on the sofa for the past week, waiting for news of anything or anyone. Bucky rose first, going to the door, pistol in hand.

“Who is it?” he asked roughly.

“Natasha Romanoff,” a voice answered from outside.

“Prove it,” Bucky said.

“You have a set of freckles in the shape of a heart on your right buttock,” she said.

Bucky flipped the locks and let her in, not daring to look at Sam.

Natasha looked too smug for her own good.

“So you won, I take it?” Sam asked.

“We did. And he’s asking for you. Both of you,” Natasha said.

“Have things changed that much?” Bucky asked.

“They have,” Natasha replied.

 

* * *

 

Bucky didn’t expect to ever find himself on another helicarrier, but he took it in stride. Large ones, as a matter of fact. He hadn’t seen Steve in more than a week, had spent part of that week convinced the man was dead, and now had every intention of making it _very clear_ that he remembered.

Steve’s sitting at a table overlooking the bridge, talking to a man who must be Tony Stark.

Six pairs of eyes stare at him, in varying stages of confusion and fear. (Well, five pairs of eyes and one single eye.)

Bucky was well aware of what he looked like. He had seen himself in the mirror that morning after all. His hair was short again, the same length it had been before he left for the Army. He had even shaved. But not sleeping for a week had taken a toll on his complexion.

“Cap,” Fury said very slowly. “Would you like to explain to me _how_ the Winter Soldier got onto my boat?”

“Not right now, sir,” Steve said, rising to face Bucky. The intensity of his stare took Bucky by surprise. A few short strides took Steve to directly in front of Bucky. He seized a handful of Bucky’s shirt, dragged him across the open room, down a hall, and into an empty room, shutting the door behind him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Bucky took the initiative away from him. Seizing his own handful of Steve’s shirt he dragged the other man’s face down to his own for a crushing kiss. Steve froze, but muscle memory took over before he could rationalize what was happening. His hands buried in Bucky’s hair, and he wrapped himself around Bucky cat-fashion.

“Do you believe me now?” Bucky asked when they paused for air.

“You know, I had a whole speech prepared for you,” Steve said. “Honor, duty and the like.”

“I’ll settle for this,” Bucky said.

“We have to go back out there,” Steve said.

“I know,” Bucky replied.

“A lot of weird shit happens in the future,” Steve said.

“I met the murderbots,” Bucky said.

“Weirder than that. Wait till you meet Vision,” Steve said “No, actually, wait till you meet the twins.”

They returned to the first room, and Bucky took stock of the people sitting there. Natasha, Sam, Fury. A tall, well built blonde man who must be Thor. Tony Stark. A being with curiously colored skin and a cape to rival Thor’s. A young man and woman he’d never met.

“These are the Avengers,” Steve said by way of introduction. “Hawkeye went home to his wife and kids.”

“Cap,” Fury said dangerously.

“He’s all right,” Steve said.

“He shot me,” Fury says.

“I _am_ sorry about that,” Bucky said.

“To be fair, he was brainwashed at the time,” Natasha said.

“I still don’t trust him,” Fury said.

“You don’t have to,” Steve replied. “I do.”

“You are a most interesting person,” the being at the end of the table said. “I know you… somehow…”

“Bucky, this is Vision. Vision, James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve said.

“Yes,” Vision said. “Very interesting… Perhaps, later, if you have time, we can speak.”

“Of course,” Bucky said.

Vision continued to stare at him, their eyes focusing as if there were cameras built in.

“Sam, Nat, you’ve met,” Steve said. “Stark, Thor, I’ve told you about.”

“I am sorry,” the girl at the end of the table said.

“For what?” Bucky asked.

“Your pain. It’s… immense. But you handle it with grace,” she said.

“This is Wanda Maximoff,” Steve said. “And her brother Pietro.”

 

* * *

 

A few months later, Bucky stood next to Natasha as she considered a map.

“Banner is a good man,” she said. “But he deserves to go off into the haze again. He’ll come back… when we need him.”

“You think?” Bucky asked.

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t believe in fate. But these things have a way of coming back around.”

Bucky’ s reply was interrupted by Steve’s arrival.

“You two done gossiping?” he said.

“You’re the one who’s kept them waiting for a week,” Bucky replied.

“Let’s not keep them, any longer then,” Steve said.

The three of them walked through the halls of the Avengers facility, to a closed door. Steve pulled it open to let Natasha and Bucky through. At the foot of the stairs, Vision stood, their cape flapping despite the lack of a breeze. Wanda Maximoff, the ‘Scarlet Witch’ stood just to their back. Pietro Maximoff, ‘Quicksilver’ looked bored. James Rhodes, ‘War Machine’, stood at attention. And Sam Wilson, ‘Falcon’, made a dramatic entrance.

“Avengers!” Steve yelled.

Whatever else he was going to say was interrupted by a big, sloppy wet kiss from Bucky.

Sam covered his face.

Natasha handed Bucky a twenty.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course Pietro's still alive. That death was just stupid.


End file.
